


Her

by nastydivine (glorydivine)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, F/M, Pegging, Smut, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23003614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorydivine/pseuds/nastydivine
Summary: With the candlelight shimmering in her hair and arousal glittering in her eyes, Yennefer takes his breath away. These are the moments that Geralt must count his blessing to have been granted the favor of someone like her. These are the moments he’s truly grateful for.“Thank you,” he says, unbidden yet meant all the same.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 11
Kudos: 109





	Her

**Author's Note:**

> please understand, i have never wanted to top anyone as bad as i want to top geralt of rivia
> 
> enjoy <3

When Yennefer is in her element, she _is_ confidence. She strides into the room with purpose. Her hair cascades over her slim shoulders, long enough to sweep past her chest and brush the jut of her ribs. It bounces with her steps, inky black waves framing her face while she saunters towards the bed. Her features cut sharp in the yellowed candle light, yet they are softened by the expression on her face all the same. Her chest is rounded, and her nipples perk outwards. Geralt wants to wrap his lips around them, but he can’t do much more than strain towards her against the silk scarves binding his wrists. She veers from her steady path towards the bed to her vanity. She checks through the bottles there, and Geralt squirms more with his impatience. She has already gathered everything she needs, he knows that because she prepares like she casts; with aptitude and prudence. 

Yennefer is stalling, if only to make Geralt more desperate.

Her hips sway as she turns to face him again, and Geralt thinks it’s the natural tilt of her walk, but she might be playing it up for his benefit. Either way his eyes are drawn to the motion like a moth to the flicker of a flame. Straps cut over the swell of them in a deep mauve that matches her eyes, yet contrasts with the milky tone of her skin. Geralt appreciates the dyed leather as she bends over his prone form. They carve a beautiful path around her thighs and ass, converging on a silver ring at her front. When Yennefer straightens, she grips a delicate, double headed, glass phallus in one hand and their usual lubricant in the other.

With the candlelight shimmering in her hair and arousal glittering in her eyes, Yennefer takes his breath away. These are the moments that Geralt must count his blessing to have been granted the favor of someone like her. These are the moments he’s truly grateful for.

“ _Thank you_ ,” he says, unbidden yet meant all the same.

Yennefer looks delighted underneath the surprise at his soft, roughened voice. Geralt meets her eyes, shivering at the raw heat that brightens her dark violets, and feeling his groin pulse in sympathy. He knows that she’ll find him hard and flushed and dripping when she finally deigns to give him her gaze. She has him near panting from watching her, all arrogance and competency in every movement. She owns their bedroom, and him, with ease. She kneels above him, and takes a moment to secure the glass cock as hers. With long, sure fingers and a soft breath on her lips, it is threaded through the harness and into her sex. She shifts a bit, rolling her hips to assure that her control over her motions remains unchanged.

One hand finds the curve of her hip as she appraises Geralt underneath her. He is pinned as much by the weight of her molten gaze as the weight of her body. His hair is strewn bright against the black feathers of her pillows, and Yennefer’s movements are unhurried as she walks the fingers of her other hand up his sternum. His legs fall open behind her, and Yennefer smirks in response. She lifts one of his legs over her, wiggling into place between his splayed legs.

Her hands grab him by the hips, dragging him further down the bed. When he is laid out supine she hums a pleased sound. His arms are stretched out above him as far as they’ll go. The silk keeping them tied to the bed is enchanted enough that Geralt will have to strain himself if he wants to pull free, though it is still possible.

“I do so love you like this.”

Yennefer’s words trail into a hum of pleasure, hands massaging the thick muscle in Geralt’s thighs. Her thumbs trail dangerously close to where his cock lay useless against his belly. Geralt bites back a whine as her hands slide back down towards his knees. She keeps this up, teasing him with occasional scratches of her nails when he lulls too much in her hold. He bucks against her, and she laughs. It’s an ugly laugh, but Geralt loves to hear it. He shifts further towards her, closing his legs around her waist. She leans into him, her grin fading to indulgence.

“Yen,” he says, voice still so soft and low as the swoop of a valley. It rumbles through his chest, and Yennefer lifts her hand to press just above his sternum.

“Again,” she implores.

“Yen,”

She smiles this time, her hand trailing up, up, up, “Again.”

“ _Yennefer_ ,” he says, with her hand cupping the hollow of his throat. Her hand doesn’t squeeze, simply holds him, because she is allowed. Not many touch him like this.

Geralt gasps as her other hand brushes behind his balls. She glances over his taint with a teasing pressure before settling her thumb over his hole. She prods in circles, not pushing yet not leaving him be, either. Geralt pushes down into it, but his arms keep him back. She tsks, and keeps up with her gentle caress. She brings her mouth to his chest as a plea leaves him lips. Her wet kisses cool in the air as she sucks them into his skin, and moves on. She finds his nipple and wraps her lips around it. They had already hardened as he awaited her in her drafty room, but under the flick of her tongue it peaks further. Geralt releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding on a moan, and shudders when he breathes in the scent of Yennefer’s arousal mixing with his own.

“Touch me.”

“What do you want, my wolf? What are you hungry for?”

He whines, and she laughs as his hips cant up. Her teeth sink into his areola, and he stops his squirming. Geralt hopes she doesn’t want anything more than that for an answer. Her thumb draws away from his entrance. She teases up the length of his cock. Her finger is light as it traces along a prominent vein, before squeezing the head against his stomach. She doesn’t have to ask, he knows that he must say something more for her to continue.

“Yen, fingers— your fingers, in me. Please?”

Yennefer idles for a long moment as she stares at Geralt. When she finally relents, Geralt is surprised. She enters his relaxed entrance with two amply slicked fingers. His head drops back, a hushed moan pushing from his throat. Her fingers are too slender to stretch him much, but it’s still so nice to be filled. Her hands are deft, curling along the perfect spots inside him as her free hand wraps around his aching cock. She pins it between her soft palm and the hard muscle of his abdomen. Geralt gasps, writhing as she rolls her palm against the underside of his cock. It shouldn’t affect him so much, but he’s already so worked up. His legs spread wider around her hips. The heel of one foot digs into the bedspread, allowing Geralt to thrust into her ministrations. 

“So handsome. My wolf.” She wraps his hand around him proper, and Geralt jerks.

With a gasp, “Yennefer, Yen— I—”

Her hands leave him all of a sudden. Her lips still trail over his heaving chest, twisted in a smirk, but her hands have retreated. They lay flat against the bed, keeping her suspended above him. Her hips are still presses close, the faux cock slanted next to his own. The touch is nowhere near enough when Geralt rolls his hips. It’s cold and teasing, and Geralt whines in response. Yennefer takes pity on him, leaning back and placing her hands upon his thighs. She runs delicate ovals into his scarred skin as his head floats through the receding tide of his lust. His hips twitch when she nears the join, but his orgasm is steadily fading as she waits. He levers his head up from the bed spread, dragging a pillow down to support his neck. There is mischief sparkling in Yennefer’s eyes when they gazes meet.

“Warn me whenever you are close. I can read your body well enough, but I want to hear you say it, yes?”

“Yes,” Geralt says, reluctant but only as a mask for his excitement. Yennefer leans over him, and he takes her sound kiss with grace and desperation. She shifts his legs further apart with one hand, the other reaching for one of the many pillows at the head of the bed. She pinches his thigh to make him lift his hips, and slips the cushion underneath them. Geralt lets his head drop, panting from the force of her lips on his. His hands fall to the pillow as he relaxes. His hair sticks to his fingers in sweaty tangles, but Geralt doesn’t pay that much mind. Plush lips press along his jaw, sucking hickies along them while she smooths more of oil along her fingers. Her mouth bruises along his shoulder, and Geralt knows her plan before he feels it. Her teeth graze his nipple, and he arches off the bed. A moan bubbles out of his chest at the pleasurable edge of pain.

Yennefer’s hand settles low on his stomach, the base of her palm brushing the head of his cock. She smears oil along his skin as the twists her hand to wrap around his cock. Her knuckles caress his skin as she strokes him, slow and sure. He shudders at the feeling, tangling his fingers around the slippery silk on his bonds. Two fingers of her other hand find his entrance, and they hook in him. They aren’t even a knuckle deep, and she keeps them there even as he shifts down to take more. She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth as he whines. 

All of a sudden, she plunges three fingers into him, sloppy with oil, and rubs against his prostate. She works them in and out, fucking into that spot as she goes. Geralt groans, breathless as his hips jerk into the sensation. Yennefer’s thrusts stay smooth and even, rippling pleasure through him without a break. A counter point to the sharp nibbles she drops along his chest. Her teeth dig in deep, leaving reddening marks in the thin, pale skin along his collar bone. In the distraction of a bite to his neck, Yennefer’s littlest finger slips in with the rest on the next thrust. Geralt notices the tension of it as her fingers press deep. The knuckles of her palm are knobbled against his entrance, and Geralt gasps. 

“Yennefer, I’m— I’m gonna,” He chokes.

Geralt bites into his lip, hard. He hadn’t realized how close he was with the steady pressure of her hand and the harsh thrusts of her fingers. Yennefer waits a moment after he’s spoken then her hands are gone. The shiver that wracks Geralt in their wake is violent, and his hands tense against his bonds, though they hold. He wrestles in a deep breath, tongue stuck dry to the roof of his mouth. A hand runs through his hair, keeping it out of his face as a kiss is pressed to his forehead. Geralt suddenly isn’t sure how much of this sweet, aching torture he can take.

Yennefer is ecstatic above him. A grin splits her lips, her eyes showing the manic extent of her enjoyment. Geralt loves the way the flush shows through her tanned skin, spilling over her shoulders. Her breaths heave to match his own, though she hasn’t done much. She’s been breaking him apart for hours. They’ve fallen into a rhythm, working him up until he calls out her name then soothing him back down with practiced movements. She raises him until he can’t hold back his noises, until he’s too overwhelmed to do more than arch and tug at his bonds, until she can no longer touch his cock for fear that he’ll come too soon. She hums, wiping strands of hair from his forehead, and angling him to lock eyes with her.

“How are you doing?”

“Been better,” he croaks, and the glare he sends her is weak under the pant of his breath.

“Do you want anything? Water? A snack?” Her tone is genuine, but her actions are mocking. She searches out the corked bottle for the oil. After flicking out the cork, she drizzles the rest of the bottle onto her cock. Geralt lets out a soft breath, having forgotten the intent of the night in his distraction. She taps the tip with her forefinger as she speaks a word of power, and a thin, white frost coats the phallus in a slow crawl. She shudders, a moan falling from her lips as the glass cools within her. Geralt lifts his legs, locking his knees behind her back to pull her closer. She laughs in response.

Yennefer lifts his leg over her shoulder, leaving the other braced round her hip. She aligns them with her free hand. As she leans forward the head of her cock teases against Geralt. The cool sensation makes him jolt. He tugs on his bonds, wishing he were free enough to make her fuck him. She pushes in slowly, the head dipping in, but not quite penetrating him. He frowns, and she shoves forward enough that the head pops in. Geralt’s jaw drops open, the cold charm feels heavenly as he clenches down around her. The shaft moves sluggishly deeper as Yennefer leans over him.

They both moan when Yennefer bottoms out. She fills him perfectly. Geralt is trembling, already so close after having been teased all night. He flattens his head back, and tilts his hips up off the pillow to encourage her. She thrusts without hesitation, rolling back and forth in wickedly controlled movements.

Yennefer fucks him, as she has been the whole night, with hard thrusts designed to pick him apart below her. It’s completely different with her cock filling him instead of her slip fingers. The shaft curves into him as it opens him, and Geralt can’t catch his breath. Yennefer braces one hand at his hip, pressing bruises into the crease, the other trailing up to pluck at his nipples. She twists them to watch as his teeth dig into his bottom lip. His breath catches as he clenches around the girth. Every thrust glides smooth with oil, and Geralt hears a wet squelch accompanying each one. It heats his face, though no flush shows through his skin, and Geralt thinks he should be embarrassed at the fact that the noises make his arousal burn hotter. He can’t be bothered with shame when Yennefer has been merciless all night. His legs tremble where they’re thrown around her, orgasm coiling in his gut tighter and tighter.

Geralt forces his eyes open, drawing Yennefer to meet his brilliant gold. She’s braced on her knees, towering over him as her abdomen flexes. Her ears and shoulders are rosy in the candlelight, and a layer of sweat makes her glow. Geralt twists the already taut ties around his wrists as the want to touch morphs into an unparalleled need. The left side of her mouth quirks into the littlest smirk as she watches Geralt writhe in desperation. The smug look is ruined as she moans, her hips shallowing into rolling grinds against him. She’s working to get herself off as much as Geralt, now.

“Yen, I’m— please, I’m close.”

The hand on Geralt’s hip slips between his legs, rolling the slick swollen head of his cock under her skilled fingers. Geralt’s orgasm blindsides him, almost too dull and too sharp at the same time. He’s distantly aware of his eyes open wide, yet unseeing as ecstasy washes through his limbs. His back arches hard, hips jerking against hers with each wave of pleasure. He floats seemingly forever, leaving Geralt with a bone deep ache from the force of it. His cock is sore under her fingers, throbbing in time with his heartbeat as Yennefer keeps fucking him through it. She stills above him with her own orgasm. She shudders, rocking in slower, wider circles. Her hair curtains down to brush Geralt’s skin as her chin falls to her chest.

When Geralt calms, his chest is heaving, and Yennefer is sliding his legs off her shoulder. She undoes the scarves holding his hands above him, massaging out his cramped fists and brushing a healing touch over the raw skin of his wrists. She carefully pulls out and away, making Geralt shiver and clench up and whine. He brings a hand down, replacing the emptiness of her cock with his fingers. They’re thick enough that it satisfies something in him. He curls his fingers so the callouses press into his prostate, and his body jerks with near overwhelming pleasure. He wants more, he wants to come again.

“Greedy wolf,” Yennefer murmurs though her attention remains on unbuckling the straps of her harness. 

“Kiss me?” Geralt says. Yennefer give him a tiny smile, pecking his cheek before sliding from the bed. Geralt want to whine, but he moans as he curls a third finger into himself on the next thrust. Yennefer takes her time as she cleans the phallus and the harness. “ _Yennefer_.”

She glances over her shoulder at that, leering as his fingers sink deep and his other hand circles his still hard cock. She takes pity on him when his hips jump in desperation. She joins him on the bed, pressing her soft curves along his side, and locking lips with him. He moans into her mouth, muffled as their tongues tangle. She laces her fingers through his own, squeezing mercilessly around his cock. She quickens the pace, letting him hide in the curve of her neck as he spills over their fingers. Yennefer doesn’t let up, using his spend to wet her hand as she continues jerking him. He’s quivering like a leaf in the wind, pants harsh and hot against her neck. She coos in his ear as he comes down, pushing her hand off of his cock.

“Bath?” Yennefer offers, rubbing her sticky hand over his abdomen. Geralt squeezes his thighs together, feeling them slick with the copious amounts of oil that Yennefer used. A grimace passes over his face. Yennefer wiggles her hand between his legs, fingers trailing through the mess behind his balls. Geralt whines, batting her away from his taint. He tosses an arm over his face, relaxing a bit when she leaves the bed, this time to prepare a bath for both of them. The sigh that leaves him is utterly contented.


End file.
